


A collection of poems

by a_certain_kind_of_dread



Category: Original Work
Genre: Feelings, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_certain_kind_of_dread/pseuds/a_certain_kind_of_dread
Summary: A collection of poems I write
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. about a home

there is something  
I always despised  
about poetry  
when it was written  
for a home

I didn’t understand  
that longing feeling  
I never felt  
the same

I would feel the shore  
calling out for me  
when I’m high atop the hills

but my place is not there  
that is not my home

I came from here,  
land built on salt  
my birth place,  
far up north

neither a place to go back to

I long for  
the cold and icy  
land up above

but it is foreign to me

the west only holds  
the sight of a sunset

the east only holds  
foreign beauty to admire

the south,  
it holds torrid heat  
unbearable sun

none of them my home,  
all foreign

and even when I see  
the city I know  
I don’t see a home

And even when I feel  
at peace in the lands of north  
they are foreign to me

none my home,  
none will be

maybe that is why  
I reach up to the stars?

the earth is not  
my home


	2. 1;34am

There's lavender in the air  
A sweet purple mixed with sea salt  
The water is cold and the waves restless  
They leave salt on the shore

There's flowers blooming around me  
Small and yellow and white and pink  
A smile should be plastered on my face  
There's an empty gaze to it

A lone branch with autumn leaves  
Hangs on the summers tree  
I miss the rain and the grey  
I don't know when I last slept with rest

Laughter bubbles in my throat  
There's something strangling me  
I can't tear it away from my throat  
It forces vomit up my tongue

There's a ringing to the noise around  
There's a white static to it  
There's blood falling from my self  
I taste iron in my mouth

The waves clash and the salt stings  
There's purple in the air and blood in my mouth  
There's autumn leaves falling from spring trees  
No stars are seen on this day

I'm drowning


	3. memories from foreign streets

A single light flickers in the distance. The star long died, the last memory is waiting to shine bright in the sky when perishing

The heavy rain washes away the summer heat and leaves humidity behind. The air is dense and suffocating

There's a field of sunflowers away from the road. They're covered in dust and face away from the sun

Far away in the hills there is a cliff looking down onto the forest. You can hear waves clashing. It never rains there

In the winter it is grey and cold. Small snowflakes twirl in the air but no snow is on the ground.

At night one can hear the crickets, there is no grass below you or behind.

Is this my home?


End file.
